


Fallen Star

by BlueNightmare



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Bondage, Collars, Gags, Humiliation, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 14:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11232900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNightmare/pseuds/BlueNightmare
Summary: When Team Flare makes its move on Kalos, the Pokemon League Champion must be kept out of the way. The duty falls to a woman who has despised her forever.No sex, but non-consensual themes nonetheless.





	Fallen Star

The gentle click of the front door locking behind her was a trivially small pleasure in the larger scheme of things, but it was a sound that Diantha looked forward to more than most things in her busy life.

Peace, at last.

There was no sound but the soft, steady melody of her own breath, and she took a moment to close her sky-blue eyes and drink in the blissful evening silence. Solitude was a rare treasure to Diantha, and she would take it wherever she could get it, even if she had to steal away from her many responsibilities once in a while. Constantly being in the public eye as an actress was a deeply tiring experience, her face and name known by seemingly every clerk and waiter and passer-by in Lumiose City, her elegant visage gracing magazines, billboards, television screens... and then there was her actual acting to consider, not to mention her role as the Champion of the Kalos League...

It was partly her own fault for being unable to say no when asked to make a public appearance, she had to admit, but that did not make it any less taxing on her.

Sometimes, she was forced to slip away from Lumiose City and the Pokemon League just to preserve her sanity. Few people knew that she owned a second home in Dendemille Town, a modest house outside of the town itself, a haven to which she could escape when the pressures of stardom threatened to drive her to exhaustion. Here, she could let the burdens of fame and responsibility slip from her weary shoulders, at least for a short while, and forget about her many troubles.

The house itself always served to lift her flagging spirits. The living room’s large windows allowed sunlight to flow inside, bringing its warmth and golden touch to the white-papered walls and grey-blue carpet. The furnishings were old and simple; a low wooden table and a bookshelf lined with works of fiction, plush blue chairs and a couch to match, a solid television stand to support a device that she would likely never turn on. A large antique vase of vivid pink flowers greeted her from a smaller table beside her favorite chair - imitations, of course, for she would have nobody to care for them had they been real, and she would not allow herself to come back here more than necessary. Either way there would be too much risk of exposing her secret little hideaway, and this was one thing in her life that she meant to keep for herself.

Eagerness to sit down and absorb the precious silence brought Diantha across the room, dropping her handbag onto the table as she approached her familiar chair, but as she passed the ageing television, her eyes were drawn to the flash of white against its reflective surface.

Even with the cord unplugged, it seemed that the thing wouldn’t let her escape the sight of her own image. Her reflection stared back at her with a sullenness unbefitting of an actress, matching her resentfulness with its own. She had taken off her ornamental wings long before coming here, irritated with the eccentricities of her trademark costume, but the rest of her outfit remained intact, all white; a long-sleeved coat, its lower edges sweeping outward like tail-feathers, and the blouse and scandalously short skirt she wore beneath. The cloth choker at her throat and her high-heeled boots completed her look, but she was quick to take these off and place them aside, letting her feet relax in their white ankle socks, then deliberately settling into the armchair that gave her the poorest view of her reflection in the television.

Yes, she definitely should have changed clothes before leaving Lumiose. It would have been worth going back to her townhouse in the city, even if she couldn’t stomach facing the photographers who were likely waiting at her door.

Still... it didn’t really matter now. Nobody was going to recognize her in a place where there was nobody to see her. Being alone like this felt almost alien to her now, so used to an audience was she, but it was still a sensation that she relished. There was nobody to stare at her, whisper about her, demand anything of her...

“It’s about time you got here.”

Diantha’s head snapped up.

_Wh- who in the world-?!_

Startled blue eyes narrowed as they found the source of the cold female voice, but the rush of adrenaline did not subside as she recognized the woman leaning in the door frame. Searing pink hair, glasses tinted red to obscure her eyes, a shapely body deliberately displayed by a sleeveless top and a pair of luridly tight red pants. A condescending smirk on her face, a swagger in her step as she stepped into the room.

“...Malva.”

Member of the Elite Four. Master of the Fire type. A colleague, but not a friend.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” There was no trace of genuine regret in Malva’s voice, only amusement at the older woman’s blossoming displeasure. Diantha had never felt entirely at ease around this woman, and her disquiet was amplified now that she had somehow found her way into Diantha’s house, her last sanctuary from the world. As if she belonged here, as if she owned the place.

Forced onto the defensive, the Champion stood and drew her arms around herself, her face hardening into a mask reserved for battle. She despised the way that Malva’s smirk widened into a grin at her show of discomfort, but it was all she could do to stop herself from taking a step back. She was not a confrontational person at the best of times, battles aside, and tiredness was taking its toll. “How did you get in here?”

“Lost those ridiculous wings, I see.” Malva ignored the actress’ questions, looking Diantha up and down with a curl of her lip. Gone was the thin veneer of grudging respect that the younger woman had shown her under more official circumstances, the one that Diantha had always known was insincere. “You look almost normal without them.”

Diantha’s manicured fingers curled inward. A lifetime of being in the public eye had trained her to be courteous always, even when an ordinary person might lash out, but today was not a part of her duties as an actress or a Champion. This was her home, and Malva was violating it. “I do not know why you are here, but you need to leave. Now.”

“Oh, please.” Malva snorted, staring intensely from behind her red-tinted lenses. “I know you’re all alone here, Champion. No bodyguards. No Pokemon. Just you... and me.”

The pounding of her heart made it difficult for Diantha to slow her breathing. It was true that she was defenseless. She hadn’t thought to need a way of protecting herself, but the more Malva spoke, the more she began to feel that she might. “What do you want?” she demanded, almost proud of herself from keeping the tremble out of her voice. Whether it would have come from fear or anger, she didn’t know.

“We want you kept out of the way.”

“...Excuse me?” The words fell from Diantha’s mouth before she had decided whether they were an expression of outrage or just a question.

I've always hated you, you know.” Again, Malva ignored her words. She advanced, black heels scraping against the carpet as she crossed the living room and jabbed an accusing finger at Diantha. “If I didn't have to see your repulsive face at the League, it was always somewhere else. Everywhere, no matter where I look. _Ugh_. I can’t figure out what it is the moronic masses see in you. What Lysandre sees in you.”

 _Lysandre?_ The mention of his name caught Diantha by surprise, jolting her out of her rapidly-building anger. The Lumiose-based businessman was an acquaintance of hers, but she hadn’t been aware that Malva had known him as well, and it bothered her more than it should have. “What does he have to do with this?” she asked, clutching the back of the armchair to stop herself from stepping backward. This was her house. She would not be bullied. Not here.

“Oh? Didn’t you know? He and I are very good friends.” If Malva was annoyed that Diantha hadn’t backed down, she wasn’t showing it. Her grin was as gleeful as ever, as if she were enjoying a hunt. Perhaps, in a way, she was. “Of course, all of us are friends in Team Flare, so...”

Another shock. Diantha went rigid, her blood running cold as those words sank in. It was already difficult to imagine that Malva had fallen in with those greedy, bizarrely dressed thugs - whatever Diantha thought of the woman personally, associating with the notorious gang was far beneath a member of the Elite Four - but Lysandre? Truly? She had known that the charismatic businessman had been flirting with some odd thoughts lately, but the idea of him joining up with Team Flare was absurd.

“Don’t believe me, huh?” Malva’s voice filled the silence. It didn’t sound like she had expected her to buy it. “Heh. Not like it matters. You’re just lucky that Lysandre has a soft spot for you. If he didn’t, ‘keeping you out of the way’ would’ve had a whole different meaning.”

The menacing edge to her words chilled Diantha to the bone. “And what _does_ it mean?”

“It means that you’ll be staying here while Lysandre and I get everything in order for what is to come.” Fueled by Diantha’s increasing unease, Malva took a step towards her, and this time the Champion could not find the nerve to hold her ground. White socks sank into the carpet as she shifted position, retreating ever so slightly. Satisfied, Malva drew to a halt, staring down her nose at the other woman. “I expect he will give you another chance to see things his way before the end, but you will be spending your time until then in... let’s say _quiet contemplation_.”

Her hand slipped behind her back, drawing an object from the back of her tight red pants, and Diantha’s soft blue eyes widened in fear.

“Oh, yeah. You don’t see these too often outside of the movies, do you?” Malva turned the sleek black pistol over in her hand, admiring the weapon’s smooth, solid lines. “But this one’s the real thing. They’re not hard to get from across the border - all you need is your own trained bird Pokemon to play courier.”

“Malva...” With her considerable acting experience, faking distress was the easiest thing in the world for Diantha, but the tremor in her voice and the fear in her pale eyes were utterly genuine this time. No script reading had prepared her for the cold knot of fear twisting in her belly, the floor seeming to tilt beneath her feet as she inched backward. “W-why do you... have that?”

“So I can point it at you and have you do what I say.” As relaxed and unruffled as Diantha was nervous and stiff, Malva jabbed the barrel of the weapon in the older woman’s direction, a declaration of her authority. “Speaking of... why don’t you take off that ridiculous getup for me?”

“Excuse me...?”

“If you’re going to pretend you didn’t hear me every time I order you to do something you don’t want to do, we’re going to be here a lot longer.” Unimpressed and completely without mercy, Malva waved the barrel of the gun at the older woman, angling it from Diantha’s collar to her feet and back again. “This stuff. Off. Now.”

“You can’t be serious.” Diantha’s manicured nails curled into her lapels, as if she didn’t know what else to do with them. Instinct willed her to reach into her handbag for one of her Poke Balls, but the elegant pink bag was still on the table where she had left it, out of reach, and the mechanical spheres containing her Pokemon were in another city entirely. She was defenseless, knew it, and hated it. “Why on earth would you ask me to-”

“ _I’m not asking._ ” Huffing an aggravated sigh into her collar, Malva stalked across the carpet towards Diantha, forcing the actress to scramble backward until she found herself crowded against the wall behind her. With the metaphorical smell of blood in her nostrils, the pink-haired fiend jammed the barrel of her gun against Diantha’s temple and snarled into her face, enjoying the terrified shock playing across the Champion’s visage as her blue eyes fixed on the weapon. “Get it off, or I deal with you _my_ way and tell Lysandre I couldn’t find you. He’ll get over it. _You_ won’t.”

Diantha swallowed, hard. She had never seen Malva be _this_ ruthless, _this_ uncompromisingly vicious, even in the time they had known each other as two of the Kalos region’s top trainers, but she had no difficulty believing her threat - the intensity of Malva’s slightly unhinged stare behind her tinted glasses burned as hot as the pillars of fire in her chamber at the League. Slowly, hesitantly, she gripped the collar of her sweeping white jacket and drew it apart, letting the smooth fabric slip down to gather at her elbows, then slide free to pool at her feet.

She had known that this alone wouldn’t satisfy Malva, but she had hoped for more than a second to gather her resolve before the Fire-type trainer lost patience with her. One glance at the look on the other woman’s face told her that she would not be so lucky. Malva was _loving_ Diantha’s humiliation, reveling in the power she held over a trainer who had long stood above her, and that frightened her more than if her motives in forcing her to undress had been sexual.

Malva didn’t desire her, but she did desire to _hurt_ her.

A sudden increase in the grinding pressure of the pistol’s barrel against her head spurred her to continue, whether the sickening anxiety in her belly liked it or not. Her hands trembling, she reached around behind her head and unfastened the choker around her throat, letting it fall free and drift towards the floor, her fingers moving on to the chain holding her Mega Charm around her neck. The mysterious ornament might have saved her under other circumstances, but without a Pokemon to unleash its power, it was little more than a pretty trinket. Still, Diantha took greater care with it than she had her choker, lowering the hand clutching the charm to her side before allowing it to drop onto the soft pile of her discarded jacket.

She had been stalling, putting off the inevitable, but now she was out of tiny things that she could remove before she truly disrobed, and she found herself wishing that she had worn her outfit’s wings after all. At least they might have bought her a few more seconds. “Malva,” she ventured, dragging her eyes away from the gun and fixing a pleading stare on the narrowed eyes behind those flame-red glasses. “Be reasonable. I know you don’t like me, but-”

“If I have to strip you myself, I will.” Her voice as cold and sharp as a knife in the gut, Malva brought the barrel of the gun trailing down Diantha’s cheek and neck and breastbone to nestle at the collar of her blouse, plucking at the edge as if to tease it downward. “Get it all off... and I swear if you stop at your underwear I’ll shove this gun up your pampered little ass.”

Diantha closed her eyes, biting down hard on her lower lip. There was no point fighting it. If she was going to have to do this, she would at least try to be as dignified as it was possible for one to be while stripping for the amusement of another. Sighing in resignation, she reached for the hem of her pristine white blouse and slowly drew it up over her chest, grateful that the silken cloth was obscuring her face at the moment her breasts bounced into view, hidden only by a lacy white bra she had never planned to show off in public. By the time she had tugged the garment entirely over her head and dropped it to the floor, the resentful blush on her cheeks had dimmed to a slightly less noticeable level, but she still couldn’t quite look Malva in the eye.

She didn’t dare hesitate long enough to accustom herself to her partial nudity and the sleazy, unclean feelings that came with it. It was all she could do to hide her disgust under the poker face of a master actress as she unfastened her bra and discarded it, allowing her modest breasts to hang lewdly free while she bent her body to guide her tiny white shorts down her thighs and shed her socks. She had never performed a nude scene in all her time in front of a camera, but this was almost the same thing as the bikini scene in _Three Nights in Coumarine_ , she tried to tell herself as her matching white panties came into view. She was showing off a little more skin than she had in the swimsuit, certainly, but her audience was much smaller here, and... and...

She hadn’t even realised she had paused with her fingers in the waistband of her underwear until Malva growled in impatience and yanked it down herself.

Diantha offered no resistance but a choking moan through tight-clenched teeth as her panties were tugged down to her knees and released, the lacy wisp of cloth dropping loose around her ankles and leaving her utterly, completely naked. There was nowhere to hide, nothing to cover herself with, but after a cursory, scornful glance at the little thatch of curly hair between Diantha’s hips, the younger woman evidently lost interest in ogling her, stepping back into the room and giving the actress a little space to breathe. “So you are just a mere mortal like the rest of us,” she remarked as Diantha jammed an open palm against the junction of her thighs and wrapped an arm over her breasts, protecting what remained of her modesty. “Oh, don’t bother hiding. You’re nothing special under there, believe me.”

Diantha hadn’t expected her voice to tremble, but it did. “I h-hope you’re happy.”

“I’ll be happy when I’ve put you in your place.” Making her way towards the door through which she had entered, Malva kept her gun aimed at Diantha as she inched her foot around the corner and dragged a red duffle bag along the carpet and into view. “Move into the center of the room... and keep your hands at your sides. I’d get used to being naked now if I were you.”

Diantha obeyed, furious with herself for going along with her captor’s demands. An endless loop of urges to reach for a Poke Ball and reminding herself that she had none on hand played inside in her head, tormenting her with constant reminders of her helplessness. She was the region’s Champion, but all that power meant nothing without her Pokemon by her side, and the fame and fortune of Kalos’ most beloved actress were just as useless to her now. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, she came to a halt at the center of the room that was supposed to be her sanctuary, left with no choice but to wait for her fate. “What do you mean to do?”

“I told you. I just have to keep you from interfering with our plans for a few days.” Dragging the duffle bag into the room and lifting it onto the table beside Diantha’s handbag, Malva pulled on the zipper and reached inside its confines, drawing out a pair of thick silver handcuffs and letting them dangle from a finger for a long moment, gleaming in the light, before unceremoniously tossing them to the carpet in front of Diantha’s feet. “Put those on. Hands behind your back. And do it _tight_.”

Diantha was quick to pick the handcuffs up, but not so quick to fix them around her wrist, turning them over and over in her shaking fingers. She had worn cuffs like this once before, for a scene she’d shot six months ago, but back then she had been in the safety of a studio, fully clothed and surrounded by friendly faces, a stage hand standing by with the key in case she needed a break from the rigid restraints. She hadn’t put them on herself, letting the stage hand do his work, but wearing them had taught her just how inescapable they were.

Noticing Malva’s meaningful glare, she brought one of the thick silver cuffs around her wrist, then snapped it shut, wincing at the cold bite of the metal ring against her skin. Then, ignoring the voice in her head screaming at her to find some way out of this, she tucked her arms behind her back and found the other cuff, guiding it around her other wrist and fumbling it closed with a series of ratcheting clicks. It was done. She had thrown away her last possible defense, though she had been given little choice.

“Good. Now, bedroom.” Malva had no intention of giving her a break or wasting words, already hefting the duffle bag off of the table with a series of ominous clinks from within. “Start walking. I’ll drag you by your hair if I have to.”

~ ~ ~

There was only one bedroom in the house, for it was not a place she had ever intended to share.

Walking up the stairs with her hands cuffed behind her back had been an awkward task, made both easier and more difficult by the constant verbal and physical prodding from the pink-haired woman behind her. The upstairs of her home away from home was dark, but the dim illumination from the skylight was enough to permit her to navigate the hallway to her bedroom door. A rough shove against the small of her back sent her stumbling inside, and Malva flicked the light switch as she closed the door behind them, sending soft light streaming from the bulb-like fixture in the ceiling to every corner of the simple, intimate room. There was little in the way of furniture - a single bed, a mirror-less dresser, a small wardrobe and a bookshelf, but whatever it was that Malva was looking for, she seemed satisfied with this.

“Kneel at the foot of the bed. Now.” Dropping her duffle bag onto the bed in question, Malva tapped her foot against the floor in impatience. “Hurry it up. I don’t have all night.”

Kneeling before Malva. The idea made Diantha sick, but there was no point in trying to defy her now when she held all the cards. Reminding herself of her pledge to be dignified, even naked and handcuffed in her own home, she kept her retorts to herself and painstakingly lowered herself to her knees, letting out a sigh as her shins buried themselves in the plush carpet. “Malva...” she dared to say, keeping her eyes lowered to the floor, “Why Team Flare? They’re criminals-”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Malva was at Diantha’s side before the actress could see what was in her hands this time, but the sudden constriction of thick leather about her throat would not leave her in doubt for long. The heavy black collar clutched at her neck as it was buckled at the rear and secured with a tiny padlock, tight but not choking, a wide metal ring dangling from the front where one might clip a leash.

The implication of being treated like an animal was not lost on Diantha, leaving her shuddering in angry humiliation, and she finally found the nerve to shoot a baleful glare at Malva, her blue eyes filled with all of the hate that she was too decorous to put into words. Her wrists twisted in the handcuffs more out of defiance than any expectation that they would pop open, and she steadied herself with a desperate breath, praying she would be able to keep the tremors from her voice this time. “Lysandre won’t stand for you treating me like this, Malva. When he told you to keep me out of the way-” _If, indeed, he had anything to do with this at all_ , “do you really think this is what he meant?”

“He’ll get over it.” More chains in hand, Malva stepped behind Diantha and lowered herself to her knees, clamping a hand down on her prisoner’s bare shoulder when she tried to turn around. Metal shackles were quickly snapped shut around her ankles, locking them close together, and with another series of clicks and a stiff tug against her arms, she felt her wrists being drawn down to meet her heels, a third pair of cuffs linking the chains of the previous two and keeping her locked in this uncomfortable new position. The tension drew her shoulders back, brazenly lifted her bare breasts and stretched the muscles in her arms, and she closed her eyes as her body began to accustom itself to the sudden strain. Surely Malva didn’t intend to leave her like this...?

Fingers twisted in her short brown hair without warning, cruelly yanking her head straight backward, forcing her to face the ceiling just as Malva’s other hand descended, clutching leather. Her mouth half-open in a grimace of discomfort, Diantha proved an easy target for her tormentor, and the metal ring’s padded bulk was lodged behind the actress’ teeth before she realized what was happening. The ring gag propped her jaws apart, locking her mouth wide open, and the thin black strap was buckled behind her head to keep the simple-but-effective device wedged in place before she could eject it with her tongue.

She grunted as her hair was released, her attempts at words reduced to formless, slobbery mumbles, and she could only imagine what she must look like with her lips so ridiculously pried apart. Her face sank low in mortified shame, only to rise again as drool raced towards her forcibly gaping mouth, threatening to pour down her chin. This obviously wasn’t intended to keep her quiet - she could still make her share of noise, even if none of it was understandable. No, this was intended to debase her still further, and she seethed in resentment as Malva smirked down at her as if she were a misbehaving pet.

Dignity had forgotten her after all.

“I wish your stupid fans could see you now.” Secure in the knowledge that Diantha could do nothing to resist her, Malva stroked at her prisoner’s bottom lip with her thumb, teasing it back and forth, back and forth... then grasped the back of the regal actress’ head and roughly tilted it forward, holding it down until drool began to drip from her trembling lips. A glistening stream of saliva rolled down her chin and trickled to her breastbone, sliding into the valley between her breasts, painting a lukewarm trail down her shaking body on its journey towards her thighs, and once it had started Diantha was powerless to stop it.

“Weren’t you on the cover of _Lumiose Life_ last month?” Still holding Diantha’s head down, Malva stooped to her level, snatching off her tinted glasses for a better view of her drooling captive. “You look like you belong on one of those smutty magazines they keep behind the counter instead,” she mused, her fingertips combing gentle patterns against the actress’ scalp. “Too bad I didn’t bring a camera. Some of those editors would kill for shots of you like this. Pretty, wholesome Diantha, apple of the Kalos region’s eye, slobbering on herself like a whore.”

Then, with imperious abruptness, she released her hold on Diantha’s head and stepped away, chuckling spitefully as the Champion lifted her miserable face. “Then again, soon they’ll all be dead.”

Diantha stared at Malva, uncomprehending, but figuring out what exactly the Elite Four member had meant by that didn’t occupy her mind for long. Her captor didn’t see fit to leave her to her thoughts for more than a few seconds, returning to Diantha with yet another pair of handcuffs and slipping one cuff through the loop at the front of the actress’ collar. It snapped closed with the same ominous click as all the others, locking so tight that nothing short of a key or a cleverly-wielded lock-pick could loosen it, and Diantha found herself shoved roughly to the floor, her shackled hands and naked rear pointed ceiling-ward as Malva drew her makeshift leash towards the bottom rung of her bed’s ornate iron footboard... and closed the opposing cuff around it.

A new wave of horror crashed over Diantha as she realized that she was _trapped_. Her movements had been restricted before, but now she was confined to one single spot, anchored to an object too heavy to move by chains she had no hope of breaking. Stuck on her belly, her bare breasts scraping against a carpet that had never seemed rough until now and her limbs painfully locked together over her buttocks, she would be completely devoid of options even if Malva left now and never came back. There would be no clever escapes - Malva had known exactly what she was doing, exactly how to ensure that Diantha freeing herself was not just difficult, but impossible.

“That should do it.” As if to emphasize the point that no more restraints were necessary after this latest degradation, Malva withdrew again and did not immediately return. Cloth rustled, metal clinked and paper rattled, but Diantha couldn’t raise her head enough to see what was going on atop the bed, the handcuffs strung between her collar and the foot-board ensuring that she couldn’t lift herself more than a foot and a half from the floor. Her back ached, her arms stung, her jaw begged for mercy as drool seeped freely from her opened mouth, but it seemed that there was still more to come...

She had been expecting movement, but the thump of a metal bowl against the carpet by her head still startled her.

“As much as I’d love to let you starve, I guess I should leave you something to eat for the next few days. If you work that tongue of yours just right, I’m sure you can get at it.” As Diantha looked on in sickened horror, Malva opened a plain paper bag and dumped some sort of slop into the metal dog bowl she had produced, the foul-smelling clot of what appeared to be meat splattering against the inside of the container in a thick, soupy mass. Diantha’s stomach twisted violently at the scent alone, and that was without looking too closely as the gritty, moist texture of the disgusting lump that she wouldn’t have fed to even the most bestial of her precious companions. She barely even noticed an identical bowl being set down next to the first and filled with water from a plastic bottle, so revolted by the stench of what this harpy expected her to eat that she would have turned her head away if it had been an option.

Pleased by Diantha’s sickened reaction, Malva ran her fingers through Diantha’s short brown hair in a mockery of affection, mussing her elegantly coiffed locks before climbing to her feet one final time. “See you in a few days, bitch,” she chirped, snatching up her duffle bag from the bed and turning for the door. “If you’re good, maybe I’ll even let you use the bathroom when I get back. If you need to, I mean.”

The door opened, Malva stepped out into the hall, and Diantha broke.

She screamed, _begged_ , empty syllables falling out of her gaping mouth in disordered clumps as she heaved her whole body against the shackles that bound her, chains jingling and clinking in a wild dance of desperation, every sinew in her body straining to break free of her unyielding metal prison. The rigid cuffs grated against her wrists and ankles, but she ignored the pain and thrashed with all her might, throwing away her pride and pleading with her wide blue eyes and frantic, watery grunts. What dignity did she have left to protect? What good would it do her when she was alone and naked and shackled like some feral animal for days on end? She couldn’t tolerate even another hour of this...

Malva paused. Looked back down. Favored the squirming, panting actress with a lingering stare.

“Yeah. That’s the look I’ll remember you by.”

The light clicked off, the door closed, and Diantha howled into the carpet.

**Author's Note:**

> Published elsewhere on May 27th, 2016, by me. This version is mostly unaltered.


End file.
